


Mending

by nightbloods



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Spoils of War, post 5x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloods/pseuds/nightbloods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-shot tag for Spoils Of War. Originally posted on ff and now being posted here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this to tumblr and fanfiction.net several months ago, just after the episode aired. I liked it, so I thought I'd post it here too now that my account is up and running. Enjoy :)

_"We're all right, you know," he says, "You and me. Okay?"_  
    _My chest aches, and I nod._  
 _"Nothing else is all right." His whisper tickles my cheek. "But we are."_ **  
-'Insurgent', Veronica Roth**

A jolt of movement woke Kensi from her uneasy sleep, leaving her disoriented. It was loud, a harsh and constant thundering that pressed in on her body, squeezing and pounding until every inch of her was bruised and throbbing. The surface underneath her lurched roughly every few seconds, and her cheek pressed against something warm and solid.

Kensi let out a shaky breath, fuzzy images of the last day flashing through her mind in a blur. Her mission was over, she was going home.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," She could barely hear Deeks' voice over the roar over the helicopter, but she could feel his breath fanning over her face and making her eyelashes fllutter as he turned to look down at her. He ran a his thumb across her forehead, the helicopter jostling just a bit as he brushed the cut on her temple, and Kensi suppressed the urge to wince. She didn't say anything to him, didn't trust her voice to be strong enough to carry over the noise. Instead, she just moved closer to him, the millimeters of empty space between their bodies suddenly seeming far too wide, and let his arm tighten around her sore body. She didn't mind the ache.

One of her hands found her way to his, tangling their fingers together in a knot of bruised knuckles and nailbeds that had been chewed raw in moments of fear and anxiety.

Deeks squeezed her hand, just firm enough for her to feel it but light enough that she wondered for just a moment if it was only her imagination and the movement of the helicopter. A few seconds later, Kensi let her eyes slip closed again, somehow comforted into sleep by the steady noise and the feeling Deeks' thumb tracing circles on her palm.

\---------------

They never talk about it, but they both end up at his house that night. It's dark when they finally walk through the door, and it's cliched but Kensi can't help but think how the stars look prettier here, more familiar. Deeks' hand lingers on the small of her back, like he's worried she'll sprout wings and fly away.

His apartment is almost exactly how she remembers is. The blanket they always ended up wrapped up in together in the middle of the night was thrown over the back of the couch, looking like it hadn't been touched in a while. The same magazines were tossed on the coffee table, Monty's bed was still sitting in the corner. She nodded at it, "Where's your buddy?" Her voice was hoarse, tired.

"Nell picked him up today after I left this morning. So he's probably living it up in Puppy Paradise." A small smile flashed across Deeks' features, and he looked up to meet her eyes. "I should ask her to drop him off in the morning. He's missed you."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Kensi mirrored his tiny smile, oddly excited to see the mutt.

It was quiet between them for several moments, caught somewhere between the stifling weight of everything that still needed to be said, and the easy comfort of being in the same room again.

Deeks turned to her, eyes running over all her visible cuts and scapes. "We should, ah, we should probably get you cleaned up."

Kensi nodded, letting him lead her into the bathroom. He helped her peel off her jacket and sweater, making her sit down on the counter while he dabbed at the cut on her forehead with a warm washcloth. His touch was gentle, almost hesistant, like he was afraid that if he pressed too hard she would shatter.

When he was satisfied, Deeks helped her down and turned on the shower. He looked at her, just a bit uncomfortably, for a second or two. "I'll get you some clothes to change into, you sure you can handle this?"

Kensi smiled, and it reached her eyes this time. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Okay, I'll be right outside if you need anything."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Kensi began peeling away the remaining layers of clothing. She tried hard to pay attention to what she was doing, but not see any of the wounds marking her body. And there were a lot of them, from tiny, shallow scrapes to long jagged lines that were engraved deeper into her skin. The warm water stung every wounded inch of her, splashing and pooling around her feet.

Reaching up to run a hand through her wet hair, Kensi winced. A cut on her shoulder blade, shallow but unforunately place, prohibited her from raising her arm high enough. Her eyes felt hot with tears and she was just about to break when she heard the bathroom door click open again, Deeks leaving her clothes.

She took a shaky breath, telling herself that it was okay to be weak sometimes, it was okay to ask for help. "Deeks?" Her voice was just barely loud enough for him to hear, quiet and shaking.

"Yeah?"

"Can you, uh- I need a little help," It was a strange feeling, admitting that she couldn't do something on her own.

"Sure, yeah, of course." Deeks mumbled, and Kensi could hear him taking off his clothes. She hadn't thought about _that_.

A second later, the shower curtain pulled back and Deeks stepped in. His eyes scanned her body, but in the way he had before. He didn't look at her with the dark, hungry eyes that had once stared her up and down, like he was going to devour her. No, this time his eyes were just sad. He didn't see her breasts or stomach or her legs, only saw the bruises and cuts that covered her. Suddenly Kensi felt the need to cover herself, ashamed of the shape she was in.

As she was fumbling, attempting to hide some of the wounds with her arms, Deeks took a step forward, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Kensi dragged her eyes up to meet his, the same clear blue she'd once felt like she could drown in, and wasn't sure that would be such a bad thing.

Deeks' hand came up to touch her cheek, "You're beautiful, you know that?" His tone was solemn, eyes searching her face for some sort of response. Kensi smiled under the spray of the water, bringing her hand up to cover his, cradling his fingers in her own and pressing a kiss to his palm. There was a lot that needed to be said between them, but that could wait. Now, after so much time spent apart, they had each other, and that would have to be enough.

So Kensi let him help wash her hair, smiling when he pulled the bottle of shampoo he'd gotten her down from a shelf. He helped her lather the soap over her body, massaging the bubbles into her back and shoulders. Everywhere he touched felt new again, clean of all the dirt, blood, remorse and guilt she'd been carrying around with her.

When Deeks was sure she was sufficiently clean, he wrapped Kensi in a towel and she let him help pat her dry. She pulled on the LAPD t-shirt he gave her and handed him back the sweatpants for himself. Neither of them said as they walked to his bedroom, assuming the same unspoken agreement they had all those years ago in the undercover house. As Kensi pulled the blanket over herself, she couldn't help but think of the last time she'd been in this bed. That night seemed like a lifetime ago.

Rolling over, Kensi found herself against Deeks' chest. His arm wrapped around her waist and she let her hand lay on his chest. Exhaling, she breathed what felt like her first breath in months.

"I missed you," The phrase seemed insufficient, but Kensi couldn't think of anything else to say. Being in Afghanistan, being away from _him_ , had been hard. Harder than she'd ever expected. She'd missed his constant babbling and his playful smirks and the way his eyes lit up when he made her laugh. She'd missed how he always knew what to say to her and the annoying little things he did like tapping his fingers on the armrest in the car or constantly shuffling his papers at his desk. For months, all she'd wanted was to go home to her partner. And then it all went to hell and she never thought she'd see Jack again but there he was and suddenly she wasn't so sure she'd live long enough to make it home.

But as she lay in Deeks' arms, she felt a tiny sliver of hope. Tomorrow morning, she'll have to wake up and face the world. Tomorrow, she'll have to face everything she's done and everything that's happened. Everything in her life had been turned on it's side, and she'll have to pick up the broken pieces soon. But this time, she won't have to do it alone. Everything else may be wrong, but right now, in this bed with her partner, his breathing evening out to let her know that he's slipped away into a dream, she can't be bothered to think about it.

Just like the wounds on her body, everything else can be mended, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, originally unplanned but requested after the first and just kinda spilled out. Short, but gives a look into Deeks' head about everything going on.

_“Sleep,” he says, “I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.”_   
_“With what?”_   
_“My bare hands, obviously.”_   
**-‘Insurgent’, Veronica Roth**

****

As hard as he tries, Deeks doesn’t sleep that night, not really. He feels like it should be easy to sleep, after weeks of lying awake all night worrying over where Kensi might be, what she might be getting herself into. It should be easy to fall asleep now that she’s back by his side, clinging to his arm in the dead of night, right? Then why can’t he seem to let his mind relax?

Maybe it has something to do with the jagged cut stretching from Kensi’s eyebrow to her hairline, dwarfed my numerous other wounds covering her body, the only injury left uncovered. Maybe it’s the quiet whimpers that fall from her mouth every few minutes, small and scared. Or maybe it’s because every time he closes his eyes the image of Kensi, her throat slit and lying in a pool of blood.

The thought crosses his mind; he could’ve lost her today. He’s become accustomed to seeing her in harm’s way by now, it’s their job to do the dangerous, save the day. He’s come to terms with the fact that the bullets wouldn’t stop flying at either of them anytime soon. But Deeks had always thought he’d be there to watch her back when the shots started firing. Kensi had been gone for _weeks_. Day after day, night after night that Deeks spent wondering who was backing her up, what she was doing, if she’d be make it through another day alive, if she’d ever come home to him.

Deeks thinks that he probably should’ve been prepared for the worst. A voice in his head whispers that there would never be enough preparation for losing her, but it’s hard to think reasonably when it’s three in the morning and the color of her blood is staining the inside of his eyelids.

His eyes fall on Kensi, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm securely around her waist. His free hand reaches for her, fingertips trailing along her ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of each breath. He lets them drift upward; grazing her neck just long enough to feel the strong and steady beat of her pulse. Deeks expects it to calm the roaring emotions in him, but it only makes it worse. His chest tightens, constricting and burning like he’s drowning in a sea of oxygen and his lungs have forgotten how to be lungs. He feels trapped inside his body, confined like a caged animal.

Hugging Kensi’s frame closer to his body, Deeks notices she’s shivering. He tucks the blanket closer around them both, but soon her quiet whimpers turn to muffled cries and her nails dig into his skin. Deeks knows what’s happening, has experienced her terror firsthand. He knows what it’s like when your own mind turns on you and sleep, once an escape, becomes almost worse than the terror of consciousness.

He knows he should wake her, pull her from the horror of her nightmare, but he doesn’t. If he stirs her, if she wakes up, he’ll have to see her pained expressions, her empty eyes. He’d always wanted to break down her walls, get behind them and see the woman that was hiding there. But now that he has, Deeks understands why she built them in the first place. If she couldn’t protect herself from this, he isn’t sure how he possibly could.

So no, he doesn’t wake her. He settles for the next best thing. He tightens his hold on her, smoothing a hand over her hair and whispering to her as he had back in Afghanistan when she collapsed into his arms.

…

He must fall asleep at some point, because the next time Deeks opens his eyes the sun is out and Kensi’s eyes are open. She’s still curled into his side and the vacant expression still turns the sides of her mouth down, but she’s more alert than she was the night before and the dark circles under her eyes aren’t quite so noticeable.

Her eyes dart to his when he shifts to rub the sleep from his eyes, and he thinks that she almost looks scared.

Scared of what, Deeks doesn’t know. That he would think she was weak for letting him take care of her like had, like he _is_ , maybe. That seems like a Kensi thing to think.

His hand comes to rest on her arm, “Hey,”

“Hey.” Her voice is thick with sleep, still hoarse as it had been the night before. For just a second Deeks is overcome with the memory of the last time they woke up together in this bed. It was so long ago, felt so different, that he had a hard time convincing himself that it actually happened.

Neither of them says anything for a long time. Deeks just sets his head back on the pillow and looks at the wall, the ceiling, the nightstand, anything but the woman by his side. It was different than when she was asleep. It felt wrong to watch her now, so scared and vulnerable and lost and everything his Kensi isn’t.

“I don’t know what to do,” It’s quiet, and Deeks thinks for a moment that he imagined her voice. The statement makes his heart skip a beat, and his arm tightens around her before he can think about it. She sounds like his Kensi; the voice is hers, the inflections all right. But it’s broken and small, nothing like the woman he’s worked next to for the past four years. He’s only seen her be anything less than indestructible a few times, but this trumps them all. Logic screams at him that it’s normal, he wasn’t himself after his abduction either, but the fear that he’s lost his partner yells louder until it’s all he can hear.

“That’s okay,” He says slowly, thinking his words through, mentally crossing out every meaningless, though well-intentioned, phrase thrown at him all those months ago. “You’ve been through a lot, not even Wonder Woman always hit the ground running.”

He’s sure she smiled, just a little bit. She swats his arm and Deeks thinks maybe his Kensi is still in there, he just has to wait for her to come back to him.


End file.
